


Cherries

by frosteddream



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bottom Louis, Feminine Harry, Infidelity, M/M, One Shot, Rich Louis, Smut, Top Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:40:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11705100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosteddream/pseuds/frosteddream
Summary: Louis is stuck in a rut. An angel has just the thing for him.Come say hi to me on Tumblr!





	Cherries

**Author's Note:**

> This is what writer's block on other fics get ya. A whole other thing that came out of nowhere. Enjoy.

The world in Franic Girard’s basement is one of the best kept secrets in Potomac. It’s considered a gross myth spun by bored socialites by many, an object of glitzy, erotic fantasies by some, and an escape by only a few, the few who can keep their mouths shut.

Franic Girard is a retired salesman who settled down in Potomac to live out the rest of his years. He’s also a recluse, a man who was once rumored to be a brutish psychopath before he made a rare public appearance to pick up his medication from the pharmacy. Imagine how silly people felt when they saw that he was just a frail, slender thing practically swimming in a beige trenchcoat. The man didn’t say a word, but it was accepted by the community that he was just your average, everyday geezer who stayed inside his house to slowly waste away. Taking all of this into consideration, it's shocking that there were rumors of him having a secret club in his basement.

“I heard from Ms. Anna Lee that there are hookers plaguing the place.”

“The alcohol is limitless, top of the line, and dirt cheap.... Or so I’ve heard.”

“Darla May heard that there’s all types of sinful activity going on. Drugs, drinking, and sex at every corner.”

The buzz kept growing and growing and growing until Louis Tomlinson, a highly respected CEO who resides in the community, put a stop to it. He overheard a particularly gross rumor while he was enjoying breakfast with a business associate. He just couldn’t bear to hear another malicious allegation aimed at a defenseless old man trying to live his life in peace.

He came up to the middle aged women spouting off the rumors, relishing in the instant silence that washed over their table at his presence, and said, “Think about what you’re saying for one second. You are aiding the spread of vile rumors against an old man who never leaves his house, who is probably trying to live out the rest of his days in peace. Have you no shame?”

After the rather patronizing scolding, the rumors seemed to cease, and the only people who talk about it now are the ones who are curious, but not curious in the way that everyone else is. Their curiosity stems from their genuine need for an escape. They want this fantasy land of hookers, alcohol, explicit dancing, and hardcore drugs to be real so that they can embrace it with open arms.

These people feel unfulfilled in ways that they can’t quite explain. These people are, ironically, exactly like Louis.

As he sits at his dining table, picking at his dinner with only the sound of the whistling wind to keep him company, he thinks of everything he needs to do and none of the things he wants to do, a regular occurrence in his painfully predictable life. He doesn’t know if thirty-two is too young of an age to experience a midlife crisis, but that seems to be the only phrase that accurately captures what he’s currently going through.

“Do you need anything else, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis doesn’t have to look away from his food to know that his one and only housekeeper, Miranda, is standing at the entrance to the kitchen, dressed in her casual wear and ready to go home for the day.

“No, thank you,” he answers, his voice rough from barely being used. He stayed inside all day, accomplishing a few things in his home office even though he was technically off, due to the fact that he didn’t feel like socializing.

“Are you alright, Mr. Tomlinson?”

Louis finally looks up at her to see that her eyebrows are furrowed, her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her hands are clasped tightly in front of her. She’s worried. She’s been worried for a couple of months now about the wellbeing of her employer.

Louis gives her a smile that he knows isn’t assuring. “I’m alright, Miranda. Have a nice evening.”

With a hesitant nod, Miranda turns around and heads to the front door. Louis waits until he hears the door opening and slamming shut before he slumps in his chair, heaving a deep sigh. He isn’t alright, far from it actually, which is weird since his life is regarded as a model for what every person should strive for.

His wife, Constance, is once again out of town. At this point in their marriage, he doesn’t think it’s right for him to refer to her as his wife. She hasn’t been his wife in years. She isn’t around enough to retain such a title. Louis doesn’t feel too bad about it since he’s positive that he’s not her husband. He twists his wedding ring around his finger. It itches. It use to elicit such a fuzzy, intense feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he felt the weight of it on his ring finger, but now, it only itches.

Louis falls down his well of thoughts, but he’s swiftly pulled out by the loud ringing of his personal phone.

“Could’ve sworn I put you on silent,” He mutters, picking up the infernal thing and answering it without looking at the number. “Tomlinson,” He answers, his tone clipped.

“Tomlinson,” a vaguely familiar voice echoes, mocking Louis’ tone. “Jeez, when’d you get all proper and shit?”

Louis can feel his blood pressure rising. “Who the hell is this and why should I give a damn?”

“Ooh, _saucy_ ,” The voice giggles. “C’mon, tommo, you don’t recognize my voice? It’s Perrie!”

Louis stays silent.

“Periwinkle?”

The silence continues.

“Perrie Edwards?”

His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed, Louis mulls over the familiar name until full blown recognition creeps into his mind. “Tink?”

Perrie laughs wholeheartedly. “Peter!”

Louis smiles his first genuine smile in a long time. “Jesus, I haven’t talked to you since college. How’ve you been? How’d you get this number?”

“I’ve been good,” she answers. “And your sister gave me your number. I bumped into her the last time I came back home.”

Louis rolls his eyes, not feeling an iota of shock. “Of course she did. Not that I don’t appreciate hearing your voice or anything, but why are you calling?”

“I’m coming to Potomac this weekend!” she sings, her voice reminiscent of tinkling bells. “I’m visiting a friend of mine, Bebe, and I figured that I could also see you while I’m there.”

“Bebe Rexha?”

“Yup,”

“She’s a business associate of mine,” he says, his voice colored with disbelief. “Damn, what a small world.”

“Small indeed,” she agrees. “So, what do you say? Wanna link up?”

“Sure,” Louis instantly answers. “I’d love to.”

Perrie squeals. “Great! I’ll text you when I’m in- Anthony put that down this instant! Sorry, the kids are all over the place.”

“Kids,” Louis says almost wistfully. “You have kids.”

Perrie doesn’t hear him. She’s far too absorbed in getting Anthony to put down whatever object he has. Quite some time passes before she gets back on the phone with an apologetic, “Sorry about that.”

“No problem, Perrie,” Louis says.

“Ah, I have so much packing to do,” she whines. “I’ll text you when I’m in town, alright?”

“Alright,”

“Great! Later, Lou!”

~

_Perrie: RMR 2 MM @ SB @ 10AM._

_Louis: ????_

_Perrie: Remember to meet me at Starbucks at ten AM!!! God, grandpa, you need to start understanding text language._

_Louis: The most tech savvy teenager probably couldn’t decipher what the fuck you tried to send me the first time. And Jesus Christ, this is your third reminder. I KNOW when and where to meet you._

_Perrie: GRAAANDPAAA_

Louis snorts as he pockets his phone and takes one last look at himself in the mirror. He’s wearing a simple pair of blue jeans, a scoop neck t-shirt, and some old sneakers he found deep in his closet. It’s comfortable yet extremely uncomfortable, and that’s probably due to the fact that Louis rarely dresses casual when he goes out. He only ever goes out for business reasons, so it’s strictly suits, khakis, and loafers for him. Even his hair is out of the norm. It’s charmingly messy instead of sculpted into the usual quiff. His rolex is the only thing on him that’s a part of his usual appearance. He keeps touching it as if it’s a lifeline, as if it’s anchoring him down from floating off into an endless void of nothingness.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he scolds himself. “You’re dressed in normal clothes to go on a normal outing with a normal friend.” he pauses. “Well… she’s far from _normal_ , but you get the idea.”

After giving himself a myriad of pep talks, Louis inhales and exhales to rid himself of the butterflies in his stomach and leaves his room. He’s halfway down the spiral staircase when he hears a quiet, timid, “Mr. Tomlinson?” He looks up to see Miranda at the very top of the steps peeking over the banister, her feather duster in hand. Confusion colors her aged features as she looks down at him.

“Where are you going, sir?” she asks.

Louis internally curses himself for neglecting to tell her of his plans. “I’m going out for coffee… with a friend.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline as she takes in the stunning news. “You’re going out with a friend?”

Louis nods. “Yes.”

A grin slowly spreads on Miranda’s face and she honestly looks like she’s five seconds away from breaking out into song. “That’s fantastic, sir! I hope you have a great time.”

Louis’ eyebrows knit together as he resumes heading down the stairs. “Thank you, Miranda.”

“Take a jacket!” she orders. “It’s breezy today!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Louis mumbles, making a beeline towards the hall closet to grab his windbreaker.

~

Louis gives half hearted _good mornings_ and slight nods to everyone who greets him as he enters Starbucks. He doesn’t have a hard time finding Perrie because she’s so… _pink_. Her hair is pink, her sundress is pink, her flats are pink, and her nails are pink. She’s a bright pink flower blooming right at the back of the establishment, mindlessly sipping her cappuccino as she texts away on her phone. Her face is free from any makeup and she truly has not aged a day since Louis last saw her.

Louis approaches her with hesitant steps, repeatedly going over how to _greet_ her, the simplest thing to do in regards of communicating with another human being. It’s weird for him to feel this nervous. His confidence is palpable and his charm is effortless whenever he’s at a business meeting or a luncheon with his colleagues, but this isn’t work, this is him trying to regain a deep connection with a childhood friend. He feels as if he’s going to vomit.

Perrie notices him when he’s two feet away from the table. Her blue eyes seem to sparkle as she puts down her phone and waves cheerfully at him.

“Good morning, love!” she greets.

“Smorning!” Louis says as he sits across from her.

He wants to fucking slap himself. Smorning? Where on God’s green earth did the random ‘S’ come from? Perrie gives him an assuring smile as she slides him a cup of coffee.

“Double shots of milk and two sugars,” she spouts off. “Is that still how you take your coffee?”

“Yes,” he answers, warming his frigid palms against his cup.

No, that’s not how Louis takes his coffee, at least not anymore. That’s how he took it all throughout high school and college, but now, he’s a shot of milk with no sugar type of guy. He lifts his cup and takes a small sip of the drink, instantly biting back a cringe at how silky and syrupy it feels against his taste buds.

Perrie taps a perfectly manicured finger against her chin as she stares at Louis with narrowed eyes. “Hmm, you don’t like it.”

Louis chokes on his drink. “What? No, I-”

“It’s fine, darling,” she giggles. “I’ll get you another one. Black coffee? Three shots of milk one sugar? One of milk no sugar? One shot of milk and one sugar? Give me something, my dude.”

“The… the third option, but-”

Before Louis can object to her offer, she gets out of her seat and flitters to the counter with the grace of a ballerina. Louis slumps in his seat and wrings his hands while he waits. He’s acting so out of character and he can’t quite understand why. Sure he’s nervous, but nerves has never made him act so… passive. Some time passes before Perrie returns to the table and sits back down in her seat.

“Your order will be ready in a second,” she informs, giving him a bright smile.

“You really didn’t have to-”

“What’s with you?” she asks. There isn’t a hint of aggression in her voice, just wariness with a dash of curiosity. Her eyebrows are furrowed and her lips are scrunched up in an adorable pout as she stares at her friend, awaiting his answer.

Louis stares down at his lap, tracing his index finger over the faint scratches on the table. “I’m just… stressed?” he shakes his head and looks back up at her. “It’s stupid. I-I don’t do things like this that often, or at all really, and I don’t want to, like, mess up or anything.”

Perrie is silent for a moment, absorbing Louis’ words with a pensive expression, before she grins and covers her mouth to stifle a laugh. Louis can feel his cheeks warming up as he stares back down at his lap.

“Babe-”

“Coffee for Louis T!”

Perrie excuses herself before she gets up to retrieve Louis’ coffee. She runs right back to the table as if she’s a child anticipating sweets and sits back down. She places Louis’ drink right in front of him.

“There you go, friend!” she giggles. “Now back to the convo. Babe, you need to let loose and be you, ok? I’m not gonna tell you that you need to be the person I saw last time, because the last time I saw you was ten plus years ago. I want to get to know the man you are now, the man who accomplished everything he said he would accomplish. And in return, I’ll let you get to know the woman I am now. Now stop being weird and tell me what you’ve been up to.”

Conversation flows naturally from that point on. Perrie learns everything about Louis from his marriage, which he doesn’t go into much detail about, to his company. In return, Louis learns about her late husband, her two kids, Anthony and Molly, and her online boutique that’s steadily growing with each day that passes. They’re more than pleased to discover that they’re both doing well in their lives, far better than what they considered ideal in college.

“Shit,” Perrie says when she checks her phone. “We’ve been talking for two hours.”

Louis shrugs. “Time passes when you’re having fun, tink.”

She grins triumphantly at how relaxed he is. “I guess it does, Peter.”

Louis’ about to say something else when Perrie’s phone starts to buzz. With an apologetic glance in his direction, she picks up the phone with a bright, “Hello, my darling!”

Louis tunes out her words as she rambles on to whoever’s on the other end of the phone, not wanting to be rude by eavesdropping. However, it’s hard not to pay a little attention when she’s using phrases like, “Are you shitting me?” and “Who did you have to blow to get us invited?”. The rabid back and forth continues for quite some time before she hangs up and faces Louis with a manic grin, practically vibrating in her seat from all her bottled up excitement.

“Guess what?” she sings.

“What?” Louis mocks her melodic tone.

“You, Bebe, and I are going somewhere really special tomorrow night.” she says.

Louis’ eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Tomorrow night? Perrie, I have to work.”

Perrie groans as she slumps in her chair, drawing attention from the people around her. “Lou… sweetie… love… it’s a Saturday night.”

Louis scoffs. “The weekend hasn’t been an excuse for me to not work in years, Pez.”

“You are so dull,” Perrie emphasizes every vowel. “My God, I have kids and even I still make time to have some fun.”

Louis lifts an eyebrow. “You’re not a CEO of a multi million dollar company that needs around the clock-”

“Lou,” Perrie swiftly interrupts. “You are the CEO of a _greeting card company_. You don’t need to be around twenty four seven. Pictures of cartoon kittens holding Happy Birthday banners shall print without a problem while you’re out having fun.”

Louis glares at her with a slight pout. “We don’t print cards that have cartoon kittens holding Happy Birthday banners on them.”

They do.

“Whatever you say, love,” she drawls. “Look, Bebe had to pull a lot of strings to get us in and I promise you will have a great time.”

“What are you talking about?” Louis asks, feeling hopelessly lost. “Get us in where?”

Perrie bites her lip to keep back a smirk. “It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

Perrie rests her chin against her fists and groans for the thousandth time. Louis glares pointedly at her as the people surrounding them throw their table annoyed glances.

“You are a thirty one year old mother of two and a businesswoman,” Louis whisper shouts. “How are you _this_ immature?”

Perrie shrugs, a slight smirk playing on her lips. “Life goes on, things change, but my state of mind stays the same.”

“You-”

“Thirty minutes,” Perrie says, reaching across the table to take Louis’ hands in hers. “Stay for at least thirty minutes. If you end up not liking it, you can leave and work until your hands cramp up.”

“Perrie-”

“Louis,” she whines. “I don’t want you to die alone, friendless, and feeling regret over existing instead of living.”

Louis bites his lip and wrings his hands as he considers his options. Option one is obviously the one that sounds the most appealing, staying locked up in his office and overseeing every single factory that produces his humorous creations. The other option, however, sounds appealing in its own way, a way that causes his heart to rabbit in his chest at what could come of choosing it. His right index finger taps a rapid, nonsensical rhythm as his mind goes back and forth from one option to the other. Eventually, he ends up saying the first thing that comes to mind.

“If i’m not blown away within the first thirty minutes, I’m gone.”

Perrie is more than pleased.

~

_Perrie: Don’t overdress._

_Perrie: PLEASE don’t overdress._

_Perrie: But don’t be sloppy, either._

_Perrie: T-shirt and pair of jeans that show off your ass will do_

_Perrie: PICK YOU UP AT NINE. SHARP._

_Louis: Why so late??_

_Perrie: Starts late_

_Louis: No hints on where the fuck we’re going?_

_Perrie: See you tonight ;)_

_Perrie: Love you, boo. <3 _

_Louis: You’re mean…… <3 _

Louis finds himself once again analyzing himself in the mirror, making sure that no hair is out of place. He didn’t have any outfits that fit Perrie’s criteria, for all of his clothing is either loose fitting or only appropriate for professional settings. When he mentioned this to Miranda, she instantly suggested for him to go to the mall, a place he never thought he’d set one foot in.

His new outfit suits him well and, to his surprise, makes him look younger than he really is. A maroon v neck marvelously shows off his collarbones, black jeans seem to hug every curve of his bottom half amorously, and striped, wool socks and black converse cover his feet. His fringe covers his forehead and the bottom of his locks curl around his ears and the nape of his neck. Louis feels a bit vain for standing there and outright admiring himself, but he’s just so enraptured by the man staring back at him, a confident, sociable caterpillar waiting to burst from its chrysalis.

“Thirty minutes,” he mutters, rubbing his hands together. “If it sucks after thirty minutes, you can leave.”

“Mr. Tomlinson,”

Louis’ eyes lazily shift to the right to see Miranda standing by his door through the mirror. She’s dressed out of her work clothes and into her casual wear with her car keys in one hand and her lunchbox in the other. She should’ve went home an hour ago, but she insisted on sticking around to make sure Louis actually goes out tonight. She’ll be damned if she lets him skip out on being social for once.

“Don’t overthink,” she advises, amusement coloring her features. “Just go out and try to have a great time, ok? You got this.”

Louis’ attention is drawn back to his own reflection as he nods vigorously. “I got this.”

As if on cue, the faint sound of a honking horn captures Louis and Miranda’s attention. Louis strides over to his window to see Perrie at the driver’s seat of a cherry red convertible. Bebe is right next to her on the passenger’s side. Perrie is dressed in a black babydoll dress, a pink fur coat, and a pair of black thigh high boots. Bebe is dressed similarly, except her dress is burgundy, her coat is white, and her boots are beige. When she looks up and sees Louis staring out of the window, she waves at him like a madwoman. Perrie looks up and starts to join her in the waving, insistently honking her horn as her eyes lock with Louis’.

Miranda joins him by the window and bites her lip to keep back a laugh. “They’re quite the characters, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Louis sighs, rubbing his temples. “Please pray for me, love.”

“I will,” she giggles, patting his back.

~

By the time Perrie parks on the curb of a quiet, secluded neighborhood filled with grand houses made of ivory and wrapped in ivy, Louis feels as if he’s on the verge of having a heart attack. Perrie was a reckless driver in college and she’s a reckless driver now. As she practically zigzagged down the vacant road, shouting out lyrics to the latest top 40 hits with Bebe, Louis was in the back, trembling and praying to a God he doesn’t even believe in.

“C’mon, pansy!” Bebe cackles as she jumps out of the convertible. Perrie follows suit and scoffs at Louis’ petrified state.

“Let’s go, Peter,” she sings. “We’ve got quite a walk ahead of us.”

Louis raises an eyebrow as he reluctantly gets out of the convertible. “Quite a walk? You couldn’t just, like, park _at_ the place where we’re going?” his eyes widen. “Perrie, please tell me we’re not doing anything illegal.”

Bebe snorts, prompting Louis and Perrie to finally notice that she’s a few feet ahead of them. “Nothing illegal, tommo! Don’t be a bitch!”

“Quiet down!” Perrie shouts back. “People are sleeping!”

Louis rubs his temples as he warily looks around the dark neighborhood, suddenly worried about waking people up. He recognizes this neighborhood. It’s, for the most part, inhabited by people who he associates with, people who hold him in high regard. It would not be a good look to get caught sneaking around here at ten o’clock at night.

Perrie turns back to Louis and places a hand on his shoulder. “The owner of the house we’re going to-”

“We’re going to someone’s house?” Louis cuts her off. “Is this a party or-”

Perrie clamps Louis’ lips shut with her thumb and index finger. “Let me finish, dear. The owner of the house prefers for his guests to park far away. He doesn’t want attention drawn to his residence.”

“...Because he’s doing something illegal?”

“No!” Perrie and Bebe shout in unison.

“Quiet!” Louis hisses. “Do you want people to wake up and see us?”

Bebe shrugs. “I don’t too much care about that. These uppity assholes already dislike me.”

“Well, the same can’t be said for me,” Louis says. “So please be quiet.”

Bebe does an over exaggerated curtsy. “As you wish, your highness.”

Perrie covers her mouth to stifle a giggle while Louis looks less than amused. The three of them walk in silence through the eerily silent neighborhood. Bebe is in front, confidently leading the way. When she rounds a corner, they enter a cul-de-sac. Louis’ attention is instantly drawn to the house at the very middle even though it’s just as dark as the other houses. It’s the house of Franic Girard. Louis can feel his heart racing with every step that leads them closer and closer to the house. At one point, he frantically looks around to see if there are any lights on, if there’s anyone coming or going from any other house besides this one.

“No fucking way,” Louis whispers. They’re getting so close to the house that there’s no way it isn’t the place they’re supposed to be at.

Bebe looks back at him with a smug grin and mischievous eyes. “Ever heard the rumors about this place, Louis?” he nods. “Well, they aren’t just rumors.”

Louis feels as if he isn’t in his own body as they approach the house. Just when he thinks that they’re going to go up the driveway to the front door, Bebe cuts across the lawn to head down a steep incline to the backyard. Bebe’s whistling without a care in the world, Perrie can’t stop trembling from the pent up excitement contained in her body, and Louis is tense as all fuck because he honest to God feels like he’s trespassing.

“Will you relax?” Perrie places a hand on his shoulder. “We’re not doing anything illegal. Right, Bebe?”

Bebe shrugs. “Might smoke some kentucky kush, but that’s just me. Y’all don’t have to be a part of that.”

Louis tips his head back and groans. “There are drugs here?”

Bebe just rolls her eyes while Perrie laughs wholeheartedly. Louis huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, silently wishing for the next thirty minutes to fly by. When they finally reach the backyard, which is as dark of an area as everywhere else, they approach a backdoor. Louis strains his ears when he catches the muffled sound of music, bright, bold music that instantly has Louis swaying to the beat of it. Bebe knocks an elaborate beat on the door before stepping back with her hands behind her back. A moment later, the door opens, revealing Franic Girard with a wide grin on his face, a sharp suit covering his body, and a martini in his hand. Bright lights and loud music flow out of the door, making the once eerie area more jovial and exciting.

“Ms. Rexha!” he cheers, his voice powerful and carrying throughout the backyard. His eyes shift to Louis. “Mr. Tomlinson! Lovely to see ya!” when he sees Perrie, a flirtatious smirk plays on his lips. “And who is this riveting beauty?”

“She’s married, Franic,” Bebe lies, patting his shoulder.

Franic just shakes his head with a light chuckle. “Ah, damn!” he points a finger at Perrie. “Well, if it doesn’t work out, you let me know.”

Perrie nods, her expression colored with amusement. “Will do, Mr. Girard.”

Franic takes Perrie’s hand in his and gives a kiss. “Call me Franic, my darling.”

He ushers the three of them inside his basement, and Louis is instantly floored by what he sees. In a way, the rumors aren’t true because they don’t even cover a fraction of how grand this environment is. The wide, colorful area is filled with smoke, dancing, alcohol induced laughter, and other activities that would make a prostitute blush.

Louis’ jaw drops when he takes in just how many people he recognizes. He sees doctors, lawyers, CEOs, and managers engaging in activity that goes against everything their religions stand for. He sees a business associate who has his tongue shoved down the throat of a woman who is definitely not his wife, and briefly, he feels silly for being worried earlier about being seen sneaking around the neighborhood by people like him.

There’s a makeshift stage at the back of the room. It’s currently occupied by a band of two guitar players, a pianist, and a drummer. Their jazzy tunes resound through the space, inspiring multiple bodies to move until they're covered by layers of sweat. A bar taking up the expanse of an entire wall keeps everyone substantially inebriated. The bright lighting, oddly enough, comes from Christmas lights strewn all over the basement. It should look cheap and last minute but it ends up just tying the atmosphere together.

“ _Good God_ ,” Louis breathes.

“Damn right,” Bebe grins. “You got any _candy_ , old man?”

Franic rolls his eyes fondly as he links arms with her. “Do I have any _candy_ , course I do!”

The two of them walk away and disappear in the crowd, leaving Perrie and Louis alone. Perrie steps closer to Louis and holds his hand in hers, giving it a slight squeeze.

“Wanna drink?” she asks.

Louis nods, squeezing her hand back. “Yeah, but i’m buying, ok?”

Perrie rolls her eyes but gives in with a slight nod. They hold on tightly to each other as they maneuver through the crowd, managing to get to the bar in one piece. The bartender, a heavy set man with a mustache ripped straight out of a cartoon, takes their drink orders before making them in record time and serving them up with an infectious smile.

Louis spends a good ten minutes sipping at his vodka tonic, observing the activities and mannerisms of the people around him, while Perrie downs two strawberry daiquiris. He’s not having the best time, but he’s glad that he’s actually out of the house and doing something for once. He actually thinks he’ll stay for more than thirty minutes until Perrie leaves him to dance with a charming woman with a nice smile. Fifteen more minutes pass by until Louis finishes off his second vodka tonic and settles on leaving. He came, he saw, and now his time is almost up. As he’s about to get up from his seat, Bebe appears out of the crowd, her movements languid and a blunt held between her thumb and index. She instantly notices Louis and makes her way towards him with narrowed eyes.

“Why are you just sitting here?” she asks in disbelief. “Dance! Mingle! Don’t be a wallflower!”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Look, Bebe, I gave it a chance but-”

“No, you didn’t,” she swiftly cuts him off. “Let me take a wild guess, you just sat here and drank a bunch of vodka tonics. Am I right?”

“Well, I-”

“ _Louis_ ,” she practically whines. “You need to _try_.”

Louis pouts. “It wasn’t in the agreement to try.”

Bebe scoffs before she takes Louis by the arm and pulls him out to the dancefloor. Louis doesn’t fight against her, somehow knowing that it’s pointless to do so. The band is in full swing, playing a tune that’s far more lively than anything else they’ve played. Bebe holds Louis’ hands in hers and starts to swing her hips and move her feet to the music, urging Louis to do the same. Louis sighs as he begins to half heartedly shuffle his feet.

“The fuck is that?” she cackles, now bopping her head to the music. “C’mon, get into it!”

Louis can’t help but laugh at her antics, now doubling his efforts. He allows his entire body to get wrapped up in the music, to move on its own accord. He and Bebe are one with the gyrating crowd as they swing around the floor, laughing and getting drunk off one another’s company. Time seems to pass by in warp speed, and eventually, the band ceases their playing. The crowd gives them a round of applause as they take a bow but remain on the stage.

“They’re already done?” Louis asks, his cheeks red and his smile wide.

Bebe shakes her head, her expression giddy as her eyes stay glued to the stage. “There’s more.”

Louis’ eyebrows furrow as his head cocks to the side. He’s just about to ask Bebe what more there could be when more applause breaks out. Louis looks back at the stage and instantly feels as if all of the air has been knocked out of his lungs. For a brief moment, Louis honestly thinks that an angel has suddenly appeared out of thin air. There, on stage, stands a man with shoulder-length curls the color of bonbons, eyes that sparkle in the festive lighting, cheeks lightly covered in soft pink blush, and lips the color of maraschino cherries. He’s wearing a black, sheer shirt with a pattern of roses and peonies covering it, leather pants that hug his legs phenomenally, and black boots with metallic red heels.

As the man just stands there for a moment, soaking up the praise from his adoring audience, he gives off such a saccharine yet dominant aura that causes Louis’ entire body to heat up. He’s so lost in admiring the man’s appearance, he doesn’t even notice the microphone in his hand until the crowd goes silent and the music starts.

 

_Love_

_I said real love_

_Is like feeling no fear_

_When you’re standing in the face of danger_

_Cause you just want it so much_

 

Louis is instantly enraptured in a husky, melodic tone dipped in sweet, delicious honey. He feels as if he’s sedated as he sways to the music along with everyone else. This man is a siren. He has to be. That’s the only explanation for this obvious spell Louis’ under.

 

_Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’_

_I fall to pieces when I’m with you_

_I fall to pieces_

_My cherries and wine_

_Rosemary and thyme_

_And all of my peaches are ruined_

 

The man’s voice is like pure heroin injecting itself into Louis’ veins, and for once in a very long time, Louis truly feels _alive_. He feels every care in the world, his work, his failing marriage, his awareness of the passage of time, lifting into the air and disappearing, never to be seen again. The man scans the crowd with an easy smile on his face, but when he sees Louis, his expression turns into something more awestruck than seductive. As his eyes, which Louis notes is a brilliant seafoam green, locks with Louis’, he sings the words with a certain breathiness that wasn’t there before. Louis’ wedding ring feels as if it’s ten pounds heavier.

 

_Darlin’, darlin’, darlin’_

_I fall to pieces when I’m with you_

_I fall to pieces_

_My cherries and wine_

_Rosemary and thyme_

_And all of my peaches are ruined_

 

Louis’ teeth harshly dig into his bottom lip to suppress a whimper. He wants, he wants so badly that his soul is aching more and more with every second that passes by. The man looks just as ruined as he does. His cheeks are becoming just as red as his lips, his tongue keeps poking out to lick over his lips, and his eyes are hooded. A million and one fantasies pass through Louis’ mind as his eyes devour the angel on stage.

 

_My rose garden dreams_

_Set on fire by fiends_

_And all my black beaches are ruined_

_My celluloid scenes_

_Are torn at the seams_

 

The man’s narrow hips are swaying slightly to the music, and it looks as if he’s becoming aroused, his pupils dilated and his lips bitten raw, by just the atmosphere surrounding him.

 

_Cause I love you so much_

_I fall to pieces_

_My cherries and wine_

_Rosemary and thyme_

 

The man keeps his eyes on Louis as his hands slide down from his torso to his thighs.

 

_And all of my peaches are ruined_

 

His eyes slip shut.

 

_Are ruined_

 

His eyes flutter back open before he gives Louis a wink and a blissful smile.

 

_Are ruined_

 

Louis doesn’t clap when everybody else does. He isn’t even aware that the song is over. All he can focus on is the man on stage, and the man on stage only focuses on him. Bebe’s eyes shift between Louis and the angel, her expression smug.

“He’s good, huh?” she asks.

“What?” Louis breathes, having to tear his eyes away from the man’s gaze to look at Bebe.

She laughs. “Hmm, I don’t think you should be looking at anyone like that.” she grabs his hand and lifts it up to his face, putting him face to face with his wedding ring. “Aren’t you spoken for?”

He yanks his hand away from her as if she just burned it. He can feel shame building up in the pit of his stomach, bile begins to rise in his throat. He looks around the room to see men and women, _married_ men and women, kissing and caressing lovers that aren’t their own, and he refuses to be like them. His marriage to Constance is a miserable one, and he’s positive that she steps outside of their marriage frequently, but he will try his hardest to remain faithful.

Bebe slings an arm around his shoulders and gives him a squeeze. “But… there’s no use in dragging around a dead body that was taken off life support years ago, am I right?”

Louis’ eyes widen. “What… just what are you suggesting?”

She bites her lip, mischief giving her eyes an extra sparkle. “Everything that happens here stays here.” she lets go of him and nods towards the stage. “His name is Harry.”

Louis shakes his head, already dismissing what she’s suggesting, but when he looks back up at the stage to see the man, Harry, still looking right at him, his eyes a bit more fiery, every coherent thought leaves his mind.

Harry’s eyes do one final sweep through the crowd before he speaks into the mic. “I’m very happy to be here with all of you again. I see so many old friends,” he looks pointedly at Louis. “And a few new friends.”

“Show us your tits!” An aggressive voice shouts from the back of the room, eliciting raucous laughter from the crowd.

Harry’s expression is a mixture of amusement and utter shock. “It’s, uh, a bit too early for that. I need to have a couple more drinks.”

Louis chuckles along with the crowd, endeared. Harry’s smile is so wide that his dimples are on full display, and Louis feels faint from the unadulterated adoration that fills his heart.

“Love you, Harry!” Bebe shouts, laughing when Louis swats her on the arm.

Harry covers his mouth to contain his laugh, his blush once again creeping into his cheeks. “I love you, too.” he spreads his arms out. “I love all of you.”

Even though those words were meant for everyone, Louis still feels as if they’re just for him. As the evening floats by, Louis stays glued to where he’s standing, enraptured in song after song Harry chose to grace the ears of his adoring public. Harry doesn’t take his eyes off of him throughout the entirety of his performance, unintentionally placing him under a trance that Bebe’s words can’t knock him out of.

When Harry’s show comes to a close, he stays on stage for a moment to soak up the applause, the praise, the wolf whistles from men and women with lustful eyes and filthy thoughts. It’s the second time all evening that he pays attention to the entire audience instead of one person in particular. With a final bow, he steps off the stage and disappears in the crowd.

Louis can feel his legs beginning to carry him to where Harry walked off to, but Bebe pulls him back and starts leading him back to the bar.

“Don’t go to him,” she advises. “Let him come to you.”

Louis nods, reluctantly allowing himself to get pulled along. On the way back to the bar, he sees Perrie with her arms around the woman she left Louis for. He feels immense pride for his friend, knowing how hard it must be for her to get back out there.

Bebe orders two glasses of rum and coke as soon as she and Louis take their seats. They receive their drinks a minute later and instantly throw themselves into distracting conversations. They talk about their jobs, which is a conversation led by Louis since Bebe isn’t as enthusiastic about work as he is, and they talk about life outside of their jobs, which is a conversation led by Bebe since Louis doesn’t have a life outside of his job.

Eventually, Bebe’s eyes shift to the right and widen. She subtly waggles her eyebrows and thrusts her hips. Louis rolls her eyes, knowing exactly what she’s trying to insinuate. To confirm his thoughts, he looks in the direction she’s looking in and, sure enough, Harry is making his way towards them, his eyes purposefully on Louis. Without much thought, Louis takes his ring off, which is something he hasn’t done in years, and slips it in his pocket just as Harry stops in front of him. For a moment, they do nothing but stare at each other, appreciating their upclose views. Louis’ adoration for what he sees only deepens and, judging by his dilated pupils, the same can be said for Harry.

“I’ll just leave you two alone,” Bebe says lowly, getting up from her seat and going back out to the dancefloor.

“Did you enjoy?” Harry asks. He sighs and shakes his head. “The… the show, I mean.”

Louis nods. “I did. Your voice is phenomenal.”

Harry’s face flushes once again, melting Louis’ heart with how adorable it looks up close. “Thank you.” hesitantly, he places a hand on Louis’ knee and gives it a squeeze, leaving it there when Louis doesn’t move to brush it off. “I saw you in the audience. I-I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you here.”

“Why?” Louis asks, his eyebrows raised.

Harry bites his lip to contain a grin. “You’re Louis Tomlinson, the aloof stick in the mud, so it’s kind of weird to see you in a place like this.”

Louis snorts. “The aloof stick in the mud?”

“Yep,” Harry giggles, brushing away a strand of hair that falls in his face. Louis notices for the first time this evening that his nails are painted red.

“So,” Louis drawls, placing his hand over Harry’s. “Why’d you come over here?”

Harry cocks his head to the side, pretending to mull over the question, before he rights himself and leans into Louis’ space. His warm breathes pour over Louis’ ears and trickle down his shoulder, causing him to shiver.

“If it’s alright,” Harry breathes. “I would like to be inside of you.”

Louis’ spine becomes as stiff as a board, his breathing grows ragged, his skin feels as if it can burn anyone who dares to touch it. Harry’s hand turns over to hold Louis’. He gives it a light squeeze before he slightly pulls away, locking their eyes together.

Their lips, due to incessant biting, are luscious cherries that gravitate towards each other until they join together in perfect harmony. The kiss starts off as soft and syrupy sweet, overwhelming both men with the intoxication that accompanies it. The music, the dancing, the smoke, every single thing that crowds the atmosphere seems to melt around them. Harry is the first to pull away, but he rejoins their lips not even a second later. Louis whines into the kiss as it gets increasingly rough. He feels as if his lips are getting bruised but _God_ does he love it.

“You even taste like cherries,” Louis pants as Harry’s lips trail down his jaw. “You’re so fucking sweet.”

“Hmm, not sweeter than you, though,” Harry presses light kisses against Louis’ neck, gripping him by his hips and drawing him closer. “Not nearly as sweet as you.”

“Impossible,” Louis sighs, gripping Harry’s hair by their roots when their lips rejoin.

They take up their space of the bar and taste each other for an indiscernible amount of time, drawing the occasional stare or wolf whistle from people around them. Eventually, Harry pulls away from the kiss with a smug smile on his face. Louis grins as he leans forward and nips Harry’s bottom lip. He goes to kiss his neck but Harry places a hand on his chest to stop him.

He nearly laughs when Louis pouts at him. “Let’s continue somewhere private, yeah?”

Louis nods. “Yeah.”

~

It feels weird for Louis to just wander through the vacant halls of Franic Girard’s house, even if Harry is holding his hand and insisting that he has a room up here. Below his feet, he can feel the vibrations of the ceaseless activity in the basement.

Harry eventually stops in front of a random door that has his name artfully carved on its center. He pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door before pushing it open, revealing one of the most beautiful rooms Louis has ever laid his eyes on. The walls are white with sponge painted roses covering them, the soft carpeting is red, the four poster bed is draped with a pure white duvet and flanked by nightstands, the black, hand carved vanity is littered with makeup, tchotchkes, nail polish, and perfume, a flat screen television takes up the middle of the wall opposite of the bed, a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, and the closet door is open, revealing a myriad of colorful, sheer, and tight clothing.

Harry ushers Louis inside before shutting the door behind him. Louis doesn’t quite know what to do himself, so he awkwardly stands where is and looks around the room. He flinches slightly when Harry wraps his arms around his waist from behind and starts kissing his neck. He releases a small sigh as his head lolls to the side, revealing more skin for Harry to kiss and bite. Wordlessly, Harry unbuttons and unzips Louis’ pants with deft fingers before pulling away to pull them down. Louis toes his shoes off before stepping out of the article of clothing. He turns around to wrap his arms around Harry’s neck.

“Have you ever…” Harry trails off, his breathing growing ragged from both arousal and nerves. “You know.”

Louis lifts an eyebrow. “I’m not a virgin, Harry.”

Harry vigorously shakes his head with wide eyes and flaming cheeks. “N-No, I mean, like, have you ever-”

“Have I ever been with a man?” Louis supplies patiently, maintaining eye contact as he takes his shirt off and throws it somewhere to his right.

“Yeah,” Harry sighs, his hands rubbing up and down Louis’ bare torso.

“No,” Louis answers truthfully, trailing his hands under Harry’s top. “Never.” he leans in to run his nose along the side of Harry’s face. “So you’re gonna have to take the lead, right?”

Harry’s eyes darken and his jaw tightens. Without another word, he hastily moves Louis closer to the bed and shoves him down on it. Louis crawls up further on the bed, his eyes glued to Harry as he takes off his boots, pulls his shirt over his head, and peels off his jeans, which is especially difficult since they stick to him like a second skin. Now in just his briefs, he crawls on the bed and covers Louis’ entire body with his own. His hands bracket Louis’ head as he stares down at him, memorizing the light in his eyes, the askew nature of his hair, and the flush of his skin. Louis looks back at him with the same analytical eyes, allowing Harry’s long locks, fierce eyes, and cherry red lips to burn into his mind.

“You’re beautiful,” Louis whispers, reaching a hand up to rub the pad of his thumb against Harry’s bottom lip. Harry’s eyes slip shut as he gives the thumb a light kiss.

He removes himself from Louis to open the drawer to his nightstand and root around in it. He grins triumphantly when he pulls out a bottle of lube and a condom and places them a few inches away from Louis. That seems to make Louis more aware of the reality of the situation. This is really happening. He’s seriously about to have sex with this man who he just met. He’s not sure whether to laugh or vomit.

“Are you ok?” Harry asks as he straddles Louis’ waist.

“Yeah,” Louis rushes out. “Why do you ask?”

Harry gives him a small smile. “You look a little green.” he caresses Louis’ cheek. “It’s ok if we stop, you know.”

Louis shakes his head. His mind is reeling, his mouth is drying, and his stomach is filled with butterflies relentlessly beating their wings, but he wants this, he needs this. “You can continue.”

Harry stays still for a moment, seeming to give Louis some time to change his mind, before he nods and leans down to connect their lips, engaging them in a short and sweet kiss. When he pulls away, he looks as if a light bulb just came on above his head.

“One second,” he says lowly as he gets off the bed and heads over to his vanity. He sifts through his mess of makeup before he giggles excitedly and picks up a navy blue tube of lipstick.

Louis’ eyebrows are knitted together in confusion as Harry gets back on the bed and straddles his hips. Keeping his eyes locked on Louis’, Harry uncaps the lipstick, revealing its riveting red color. Louis now realizes what he's doing, and he would be lying if he said that he isn’t turned on by just the thought of it. Harry pouts his lips and begins to apply the lipstick, making sure that his lips are evenly coated and all filled in. He rubs his lips together and lets them go with a light pop, smiling shyly down at Louis.

“Is this ok?” he asks.

“Kiss me.”

Harry’s smile widens as he leans down and kisses Louis with an eagerness that beats every other kiss they’ve shared this evening. Harry pulls away to kiss down Louis’ neck, chest, and abdomen, leaving bright red lipstick marks in his wake. When he gets to Louis’ crotch, he gives the man a wink before mouthing at his semi hard cock through his briefs. Louis thrusts up into the feeling, whining at Harry’s teasing. Harry pulls away and sits back on his haunches to pull Louis’ briefs off, leaving the man fully visible for his greedy eyes to consume.

No longer able to show any restraint, Harry leans back down and sucks the tip of Louis’ cock into his mouth.

“Fuck,” Louis gasps out, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair.

Harry’s red lips look downright sinful as Louis’ cock slips further and further past them. Eventually, Harry has the entire thing down his throat, bobbing his head as if he’s dying for Louis’ release. Louis is writhing around the bed, his head tossed back and uncontrollable pants and moans escaping his lips. He rests one leg on Harry’s back and thrusts up into his mouth, causing the man to gag slightly.

“Can I?” Louis whines, thrusting again to show what he’s asking for.

Harry removes his mouth from Louis’ cock with an obscene _pop_. “Please,” he begs, his voice ragged, before he takes Louis back in his mouth.

Louis tightens his hold on Harry’s hair and begins to thrust up into his mouth, his chest heaving from the searing pleasure coursing through him. Harry blissfully takes what he’s being given, looking up at Louis through his eyelashes and stroking his own cock in time with Louis’ thrusts.

“ _Ah_ , I’m fucking close,” Louis pants, grinding forward to _really feel_ the tight space of Harry’s throat.

Harry pulls back off of Louis’ cock, rubbing the corners of his mouth to remove any lipstick smudges. Louis lets out a sob, tugging Harry’s hair to get his mouth back on him. Harry chuckles as he bats his hand away and sits back up, retrieving the lube and condom.

“Don’t want you to come yet,” He rasps.

Louis whimpers at how gravelly Harry’s voice sounds, getting a strange satisfaction from knowing that he’s the cause of it. Harry snaps open the bottle of lube and drizzles a suitable amount on his fingers before chucking it to the side. Louis’ mouth falls open when he feels a wet index finger circling his rim. His grip on the duvet below him is so tight that his knuckles are white, and it only tightens when the index finger slips inside of him until it’s knuckle deep.

“Alright?” Harry asks, his eyes wide.

“Yes,” Louis sobs out. He swears on his life that he’s never felt like this.

Harry nods as he begins to pump his finger in and out, slightly amazed by the tight warmth surrounding it. When Louis begins to frantically move back on the finger, Harry adds another. It’s not long until Harry’s four fingers deep inside of Louis, frantically fucking into him and massaging his prostate. Louis is so overwhelmed that all he can offer is pathetic whines and slurred, incoherent words.

“Ready,” he whimpers. “Hmm, I’m ready.”

Harry takes his fingers out before he gets up and takes his briefs off, sighing at the feeling of his fully hard cock getting free from its confines. He picks up the condom and rips it open with his teeth before sliding it on, using the remainder of lube on his fingers to slick himself up. He gets back on top of Louis and rests on top of his body, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips as he hikes up his right leg and slowly enters him. Louis squeezes his eyes shut at the intrusion, momentarily unable to breathe as he just takes it. When Harry is fully seated inside of him, he releases a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“Ok,” Louis whispers, his eyes misting up. “Please move.”

That’s all Harry needed to hear. With his hand gripping Louis' thigh and his other hand holding him up, he grinds into Louis, knowing that he’s touching his prostate when he releases a high pitched, elongated whine.

“I think I’m in love,” Louis slurs, his fingers digging into Harry’s back.

Harry chuckles lowly as the speed of his thrusts increase. His low moans and frantic pants mix with Louis’ beautifully as they both get closer and closer to the edge. Louis’ bottom lip is trapped between his teeth, his toes are curled, and his fingernails are leaving scratches on Harry’s back. He feels as if he’s burning, as if he’s reaching the gates of heaven the longer he’s subjected to a pleasure he’s never known. Harry’s face is buried in his neck, pressing biting kisses into his skin.

“Come for me,” he growls. “ _Come for me_.”

Louis doesn’t have to be told twice. Harry only has to thrust two more times for Louis to scream and make an absolute mess of himself. Harry follows suit just a few seconds later, his back arching as he releases into the condom with a low groan.

Louis’ entire world is spinning, turning black. He tries to stay awake, he really does, but he's exhausted both physically and mentally. He falls into the most peaceful sleep he’s had in years as Harry pulls out of him.

~

The first thing Louis sees when he wakes up the next morning, is Harry’s sleeping face. He has his arms wrapped around Louis’ waist and Louis has his hands resting against Harry's chest. It’s an intimate position that Louis finds himself feeling guilty for catching himself in. They’re both under the duvet of Harry’s bed, softness and warmth surrounding them, and Louis doesn’t feel like he deserves any of it.

Louis slips out of Harry’s arms, his heart clenching at the small whine that escapes Harry's lips, and gets out of bed. He looks down in confusion at lipstick stains covering his chest until he remembers why they’re there.

Harry stirs in his sleep before settling back into a comfortable position. Louis longs to get back in the bed and join him, but he can’t. This fantasy ends now. He puts his clothes back on, careful to hide the lipstick stains, before he takes his wedding ring out of his pocket and puts it back on his finger. It itches his skin once again.

He slips his shoes on, takes one final look at the beautiful man in the bed, and leaves the room.

“Goodbye, cherry.”


End file.
